We're all scarred
by Aunknowntimelord
Summary: "We're all scarred, kiddo." He said as he slung his arm around me, "We've all felt pain. You don't keep it bottled up, inside of you. Because no matter how long ago it happened, it still hurts. And it's never going to be okay, even once you've let him go. You need to learn to accept that because all of the pain and the hurt. It's what makes you human." Post AOU fanfic.


**Hi People of the universe.**

 **For those who are wondering, yes I am still continuing Another Peculiar. This is basically a story set after AOU and when Wanda is trying to get over her brother's death and her past.**

 **Warning: There is mentions of abuse/torture in this story.**

 ** _Wanda POV_**

3 weeks.

It had been 3 weeks since Ultron was destroyed.

Since my home was obliterated.

Since Pietro died.

I looked up at the night sky, but it could be the early morning. I tended to lose track of time up here. When we were in Sokovia, before we joined Ultron, long before we joined Hydra, after our parents died, we used to sit on top of whatever rooftop we wanted, and gaze up at the stars. All of the light pollurion from the city makes it impossible to see the stars. But, I still find comfort in the thought.

Pietro would've loved it here. He would've loved running around the many acres of fields that surround the compound. Something wet runs down my cheek.

A tear.

Before I knew it, I released the tears, rivers running down my face. I didn't turn around to acknowledge the fact that someone was opening the door. I didn't want them to see me up here, so I ran around to the side of a few crates that were stacked on the roof. I didn't care that I was crying and sobbing like a child. I didn't want to be caught. I know that Steve and Natasha already had their suspicions and were concerned that I wasn't sleeping and I didn't need anyone consolidating their beliefs.

"Wanda."

My name was called, but even though there was a slight tinge of sadness, worry and sympathy you could still tell it was Natasha's.

Then I broke.

I'm not sure what made me.

Maybe it was the need for comfort.

The lack of Pietro in my head.

Touch. Human touch like what Pietro would give me.

I started sobbing, rocking myself back and forth. Natasha was at my side in an instant. She pulls me into her lap and starts to rub my back as I start to hyperventilate.

"Shh, Malen'kiy" she whispers, "it's alright. You're safe. Just breathe." She starts to take long and exaggerated breaths. Soon, I start to calm down as I sink into the Natasha's embrace. I bury my face into the side of her neck as she starts to run her hands through my messy hair. I cling on tighter as she lifts me up off the ground and carries me back inside the compound.

The next thing I knew was Natasha was laying me down in my bed. She climbed in on the other side.

"Was that your first panic attack?" She asked.

I recall the first incident as though it was yesterday.

"Six years ago." I stated, "When our parents died."

After a moment of silence she engulfs me in a hug. Surprised at the sudden gesture of comfort, I stiffen, but as quickly as she hugs me, she lets go and holds me at arm's length.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.

"Tell you what?" My confusion must've been evident because she gave a small, sad smile which was very un-Natasha like.

"Your file said that your parents died when you were 10. If that was six years ago then how old does that make you?"

"16" I mumbled.

"You're just a kid." Natasha looked at me one more time before staning up and pulling the covers over me, effectively tucking me into bed.

"Get some sleep Malen'kaya Ved'ma, we can talk more in the morning."

"Night 'Tasha." I mumbled already half asleep.

I wasn't awake to hear the response.

When I woke up the next morning it was from a loud clattering noise coming from the kitchen, not a nightmare. After a quick shower, I made my way down to the main eating area. I saw Natasha talking with Steve over one side of the room, while Sam was cleaning up a plate and Rhodey talking with

"Clint?"

He turned around, his trademark smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey kiddo."

I lept into his arms, the force of me nearly knocking him over.

"Whoa," he exclaimed, "what has Nat been teaching you kids?"

I laughed clinging onto him tighter. The moment was interrupted or ruined, should I say, by Stark waltzing in.

"Awww. Look at the love birds." Yup. Definitely Stark.

Natasha slapped him on the back of his head.

"Actually," she started, "that reminds me. Wanda, can we talk?"

I glanced around at the others, seeing my hesitation Natasha said, "Alone."

I followed her out of the kitchen and down the hallway. We ended up on a balcony when she turned to me. I looked down at my feet not wanting to face her.

"Wanda." Natasha started in Sokovian, almost sounding like my mother. "Can you look at me?"

It wasn't a question. I tilted my head up, my eyes meeting hers.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Um, I...I don't want...not after Pietro...living with...Stark..." I couldn't form proper sentences.

Natasha was at my side in an instant, rubbing my back.

"You didn't want to be treated differently, did you? Not after what happened with Pietro. But living with Tony. That I don't understand."

I honestly did not know how she gathered that from my disjointed sentences, but, I nodded anyway, "I had a dream last night, before we were on the roof. It was when my parents were killed. You read my file. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Then you should know that our parents were killed in a bombing. That's not the full story. We were ten years old, the four of us were having dinner as usual. Then we heard a loud boom, and suddenly there was a hole in the floor, and our parents weren't there. Pietro grabbed me and we rolled under the bed. Another shell hit. It landed right in front of us, but it didn't go off. We were trapped in the rubble for three days. Three days of staring at the shell and the words written on it, Stark Industries. That was why we joined Hydra. Why we joined Ultron. Because we spent most of our life believing that Tony Stark, Iron Man, an Avenger, killed our parents."

"Oh _Wanda."_ The way Natasha said my name almost made me break out into tears then and there, "You need to tell him. If not him at least tell Steve."

"No."  
"You need to tell the others your age at least." She stated, her arm still wrapped around my shoulder."

"How?"

"However you like."

"Can you?"  
"Of course, Wanda."

"Now."

"Okay."

She guided me back into the kitchen, where I walked back over to Clint's side, where he draped one of his arms around my shoulders.

"Everyone." heads turned to Natasha, "Wanda and I would like to tell you something."

"You're together now?" Stark piped up from his position on the couch.

Natasha smiled slightly, then winked at me. "No Tony. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't like to make out with a 16 year-old kid."

"You never kno- wait WHAT?!"

"Wanda?" it was Clint, he turned me around to face him, holding me at arm's length, "How old are you?"

I looked down, ashamed, but Clint was persistent. He shook my shoulders.

"Wanda, look at me."

I ignored him. That was when another pair of hands pulled me away from Clint and walked me over to the sofa opposite Stark, where I sat down.

"Natasha just told you. Why are you asking me?" I mumbled, staring at my hands that were folded on my lap.

"We want to hear it from you." said Steve, "So, we'll ask you again. How old are you?"

"I was born on the 9th of May 1998. My parents died on the 28th of May 2008. My brother died on the 25th of April. 3 weeks before our 17th birthday. I am currently 16 years old."

That was all it took for Steve to engulf me in a hug.

"Wait. Hold up a sec. How did Natasha know this before all of us?" Stark asked.

"We talked." Natasha replied nonchalantly.

"About what?" Trust Stark to be nosy.

"About the night your weapons killed our parents." I interjected, hot tears streamed down my cheeks by this point as I stormed towards the doorway, only to be stopped when an arm wrapped around my waist and threw me over their shoulder.

"Let me go." I shouted kicking on Steve's chest.

Steve sat on the couch and pulled me onto his lap his arm still firmly planted around my waist.

"No no no no no." I murmured, wriggling in his grasp, his hold bringing back too many memories. Being restrained on that horrid table in the room where I got those powers. The beatings Strucker would give me – give us – when the experiments didn't work the way he wanted, or when we didn't follow an order.

 _I was strapped to the table, face down with only my crop top and underwear on. Strucker came in and knelt down by my side, "You should know better sweetie." His cold voice making me shiver, "This is what happens when you disobey an order of mine."_

 _The first stroke made me cry out in pain and surprise of a whip making contact with my back. Then they kept coming. One after another. I kept on struggling in the restraints. He only stopped to secure one around my waist and secured it on two poles that enabled me to be held slightly above the table. Then he continued. I started crying long, but now I was begging._

 _"Please stop!"_

 _"I'll be good. I promise."_

 _"Where's Pietro?"_

 _"I want Pietro."_

 _"Pietro."_

 _"Help."_

 _"_ _ **Wanda.**_ _"_

 _That wasn't Strucker. It was female._

 _"_ _ **Snap out of it**_ _"_

 _Someone else spoke._

 _"No!"_

A weak blast of red energy blasted through the room.

I looked up at Clint and Natasha who were standing above me.

"Where's Pietro?" They glanced at each other, having a silent conversation.

"I want Pietro."

"Wanda." I glanced to Natasha who had spoken and brought me into a side hug, my head resting on her shoulder, "You just had a flashback. You want to tell us what it was about Sweetie."

I flinched at the pet name, "that's what he called me."

"Who did?"

"Strucker." I glanced around at the others before whispering in Natasha's ear, "can I just tell you, Clint and Steve?"

"Sure kiddo," she whispered back before turning around and acknowledging the others, "Gentlemen, I would like you to leave. Steve and Clint, you can stay."

When there were just the four of us left in the room I turned my back to them and pulled up the back of my shirt.

I heard them gasp,

"Oh my god." It was Clint.

"Wanda, we need to get those checked out." Natasha said, coming up beside me.

Steve joined the conversation, "Yeah, those look like they may be infected kiddo."

We reached the med-bay and Natasha helped me up onto one of the tables. "You're really light Wanda."

I rolled my eyes and turned to look at her, "well it's not like Pietro and I had a sufficient amount of food growing up."

"You shouldn't be skipping meals then kiddo."

"I've had worse."

"I know." Steve piped up, while rubbing some sort of cream on my back, "I can tell from this." he gestured to my back as Natasha pulled my shirt back down.

Clint, who had been brooding in the corner of the room, on top of one of the cabinets, decided that this was the best time to interject.

"Can I talk with you, Wanda." Not waiting for an answer as he guided me out of the room towards my own. He opened the door to my balcony, a chilly breeze accompanying the morning buzz of the city. "You miss him."

"Yes," I whispered, "I miss him. He was my constant. Through our parents death, Hydra, the torture. And now he's gone and I don't know what to do. We didn't come out of anything unscathed but it was okay because we had each other, but now, I'm scarred and everyone else is okay."

"We're all scarred, kiddo." He said as he slung his arm around me, "We've all felt pain. You don't keep it bottled up, deep inside of yourself. Because no matter how long ago it happened, it still _hurts._ And it's never going to be okay, even once you've let him go. You need to learn to accept that because all of the pain and the hurt. It's what makes you human."

He paused, "You're always going to miss your brother. But that's what shows that you care. And no, it's not okay. It's never going to be okay. But _you_ will be _fantastic."_


End file.
